Letter from Nowhere
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: Literati. You mean mistletoe not just on Christmas, but on every day of the year. One shot.


**A/N: **Do you remember a time when I knew a girl from Mars? I don't know if you knew that. Oh, we'd stay up late playing cards, Henri Winterman cigars. Though she never told me her name, I still love you girl from Mars. My inspiration. I really need to stop drinking so much coffee at night.

**Disclaimer:** I own the words, but not the names.

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Rory,

I never told you that I'm jealous. I'm fucking jealous. I'm jealous because you get what you want, even though you never ask for it. I'm jealous because you get the private school education and the Ivy League college and the bookstore on every corner and the mind of a journalist and I get the Wall-mart ID card and disappointed faces. I'm jealous because you have a mother who's your best friend; who listens to The Distillers and watches Willy Wonka with you and I get a drunk failure of a mom who sends me to live with my uncle when things get bad and a deadbeat dad with a hot dog stand. I'm jealous because your house is full of noise and magazines and love and I don't have a home. I'm jealous because you get to hurt me back and I can never say I'm sorry. I'm jealous because you will always have a home to go back to and I will have nothing but paperbacks and a duffel bag filled with dirty clothes. I'm jealous because you don't have to say I love you for me to know you lied. Because you will move on, and I will never be able to. Because I will fade from your memories just like lyrics to a Clash song and your face will never leave me. I'm jealous because you know what you want.

I never told you that I daydreamed. I dreamt about what it would be like to see you wake up in the morning with sleep still glinting in your blue eyes and your hair sticking up at odd angles and your mouth twitching in a smile at me. For me. I dreamt about Christmases with tall trees and presents and red velvet stockings with names printed on them in gold thread. I dreamt about growing up in a house full of noise and magazines and love. I dreamt about being able to stay in one place without getting restless and finding myself without running to California. I dreamt about making the people who care about me proud instead of making them hurt. I dreamt about keeping my promises and calling when I said I would and planning a time and place and saying what I felt and not shutting you up with a kiss. I dreamt about having a sweet taste in my mouth instead of a bitter one. I dreamt about my mom remembering my birthday and having a chocolate cake with white frosting and something cheesy written on top of it. I dreamt about keeping in touch and making friends and playing basketball in a schoolyard and getting good grades and saying nice things. About getting you back. About building a time machine. I dreamt about starting over.

I never told you what you mean to me. You mean a future filled with Norman Rockwell holidays and picture cards and Hallmark moments and peppermint-scented candles. You mean getting a degree. You mean watching the sunrise with hot cups of coffee in our palms to keep us warm. You mean mistletoe not just on Christmas, but on every day of the year. You mean keeping my New Years resolutions. You mean spending days sitting on a bridge reading books and arguing. You mean every letter in the alphabet and every word in the dictionary and every ocean and lake and river and every day from here to eternity. You mean going on junk food runs at three in the morning. You mean never having to say goodbye. You mean knocking on doors until your knuckles bleed just to get an answer. You mean saying yes in twenty different languages and knowing the question before I ask and never giving up. You mean kittens that follow you home because you have sugar cubes in your pocket. You mean CD after CD of perfectly timed music on the good radio station with no commercial breaks. You mean the movies without the previews. The apple without the seeds. The book without the title. You mean love.

I never told you that I knew you were the one from the second I saw you. I never told you that you make up for every bad thing that ever happened to me. I never told you that your school uniform brought out your eyes. I never told you that I was proud of you. I never told you that I liked pouring your coffee for you. I never told you that the look in your eyes on the bus the day that I left caused me more pain than anything in the world. I never told you that I would have gone to your grandma's house if you only gave me the kiss. I never told you the way your hair felt when I ran my hands through it. I never told you that I liked the way your pale skin contrasted with mine. I never told you that everything step I took was for you. I never told you that what Luke did for me means a lot. I never told you that I liked being your Dodger. I never told you that I liked your mother. I never told you that I wanted to go to the prom with you. I never told you that Lane's band played really good. I never told you that I never wanted to make you cry. I never told you that I don't need to grow up in a house full of noise and magazines and love. I need the feel of your lips on mine. I need you. I never told you that this was goodbye.

Jess

--

**End**


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